RoyAi Drabblies
I'm feeling a bit testy right now, especially since the cosmos thinks it's a fun joke to saddle me with the TA I abhorred from first quarter. And if what she said today indicates anything, this second round is going to be worse than the first time. But, see, I can't escape it because that would mean leaving my friend behind to endure the horror all alone (again, for her too). You are cruel, world, so excuse me for being a little cruel myself:
She asked it casually, surprising both of them.
“I just want to know… Do you sleep with them?”
His answer rang loudly in the silence in her ears. She nodded once, perfunctorily, and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.
He’d forgotten to say “No.”
They don’t talk about things like love or relationships or dates, probably because they have this understanding that might or might not be real. At least, they think it’s real-although it’s more of an individual thing when it comes down to it, because she thinks it is and he thinks it is-but they don’t think it is because they never speak about it. But it’s something that can’t be spoken about because to name it would be to transform it. Or maybe they’re just afraid to talk about such things because that means breaching something unsaid and understood. That would mean crossing lines.
They don’t cross lines, she through a sense of respect and duty, he because he doesn’t have to-he chooses what he will. It’s always been this way. He chooses; she follows. Never mind if she goes before him; she is really following. She doesn’t ask for much; in fact, she doesn’t ask for anything. Nothing that she can voice and nothing that he can give, nothing tangible, but even so he still surprises her every now and again. And confuses.
Because sometimes she isn’t sure what they are and he isn’t saying anything and it’s like they’re stretched taught with tension, a rubber band ready to snap, lash and sting. Because despite everything they do, they’re not psychic.
She’s always wanted things simple, but she realizes this way of living is the most complex existence of all.
RoyAi rant goes here. You can lambast me if you really want it.
She asked it casually, surprising both of them.
“I just want to know… Do you sleep with them?”
His answer rang loudly in the silence in her ears. She nodded once, perfunctorily, and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.
He’d forgotten to say “No.”
They don’t talk about things like love or relationships or dates, probably because they have this understanding that might or might not be real. At least, they think it’s real-although it’s more of an individual thing when it comes down to it, because she thinks it is and he thinks it is-but they don’t think it is because they never speak about it. But it’s something that can’t be spoken about because to name it would be to transform it. Or maybe they’re just afraid to talk about such things because that means breaching something unsaid and understood. That would mean crossing lines.
They don’t cross lines, she through a sense of respect and duty, he because he doesn’t have to-he chooses what he will. It’s always been this way. He chooses; she follows. Never mind if she goes before him; she is really following. She doesn’t ask for much; in fact, she doesn’t ask for anything. Nothing that she can voice and nothing that he can give, nothing tangible, but even so he still surprises her every now and again. And confuses.
Because sometimes she isn’t sure what they are and he isn’t saying anything and it’s like they’re stretched taught with tension, a rubber band ready to snap, lash and sting. Because despite everything they do, they’re not psychic.
She’s always wanted things simple, but she realizes this way of living is the most complex existence of all.
RoyAi rant goes here. You can lambast me if you really want it.